


Markus Drabbles

by DarthSuki



Series: Detroit: Become Drabbles [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring Markus and the reader, with everything being NSFW and gender/sex-neutral unless otherwise specified.





	1. Dominant

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles were written with the amazing support of the followers on my Detroit: Become Human writing blog. If you would like to request stuff, toss ideas at me or whatnot, [you can check out the blog here!](https://detroitbecomehumanwritings.tumblr.com/)

> Anonymous: A dominant Markus fingering and making the reader beg?

“Say my name.”

The voice that rumbles into your ear is powerful and low. It makes your heart flutter and your body shudder in want as the sound fills your mind and thoughts. There’s something about the timbre or even the way that the words themselves sound that makes them all the more powerful–nevertheless, you can barely come up with a whimper of a reply.

It’s all you can muster up, your body otherwise overwhelmed with sensation and without the ability to do anything about it. Pleasure is Markus’ tool and he wields it like a hot iron rod–his fingers feel like they’re burning you up inside all the same. He’s managed to work a third one beside the first two, opening you up around the digits and rubbing his fingertips along the oh-so-sensitive walls inside of you.

Its almost embarrassing that he’s able to work all these noises from your lips with just his fingers alone, but that’s a thought for a far less horny you, when you weren’t pressed up against Markus’ naked, warm body and feeling the deep thrusts of his thick fingers.

“ _Say my name_.”

The command is more firm this time, practically rumbling from the man’s chest as it spills with power over your focus and thoughts. Your mind is waist-deep in the warm water of hazy pleasure, with his voice the only clear object that can cut through it. It makes your body blossom with heat almost as much as his fingers do.

“Markus,” You finally moan, legs opening up even more in the useless attempt to make him give you more. “Fuck me, please–please-”

“I will,” he all but coos, nuzzling his face into the crook of your throat. “I will sweetheart–nobody else is gonna fuck you but me. You’re  _mine.”_

It’s love and possession twisting together in one delicious tone of voice, thick and powerful so that it leaves you feeling helpless under the man’s gaze. You’re equally amazed and frustrated by how well he keeps himself restrained, even though you can feel him, hot and throbbing against your hip.

“Who do you belong to?” 

It takes a moment for you to filter the question through your thick thoughts–long enough that Markus’ fingers still inside of your body, stopping all of the delicious trickles of pleasure. A thin whine is drawn from your chest, but Markus does nothing to coo your frustration–he wants the answer to his question.

He slips his fingers out of your body, slowly, letting you feel the emptiness that follows them long enough that the plea is already rolling off your tongue before he can ask the question a second time.

“You,” you whimper. “I’m yours, Markus–please fuck me, make me yours, fill me up.”

You could practically feel Markus’ smile as he presses a kiss to your throat.

“You sound amazing when you beg, sweetheart,” he murmurs, finally pressing his fingers inside you again.


	2. Gentle D/S

> Anonymous: Can we pretty please have some pet/master (I'm just thinking about the power dynamic rather than anything furry-ish) or master/slave stuff with Markus as the master?

It’s peaceful to sit with Markus when he paints–peaceful to lean your head against his leg, close your eyes and just listen to the soft sounds of shuffling supplies and even softer brushstrokes. Indeed, it’s peaceful, but it doesn’t always stop you from being curious about what he’s painting.

You reach a hand up and gently pull at his pant leg. Markus seems to notice your efforts after a moment, his head tilting to look down at you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks in a gentle, almost cooing voice. You look up at him for a moment and blink, wondering idly if your eyes looked wide and vulnerable enough to get the permission you were searching for. Markus continued to hold your gaze, LED flickering as he tried to piece together what you wanted before–

“Ah,” He pursed his lips and offered a gentle smile. “Sorry–you can speak if I ask you a question directly, okay?”

You nodded, hand still carefully wrapped in the fabric of his pant leg.

“What are you painting?”

The man glanced over to the canvas he’d been working on since a few hours before–it was finally holding a semblance of form but was still long from being finished.

You almost thought that it looked a little like you, somewhere in all of those passionate brushstrokes, hiding away from view for Markus to bring out.

Your partner chuckled at the question. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he says, setting down the pallet of paints to reach down and gently rub his fingertips against your scalp. “Something I love, probably. Are you still comfortable?”

It takes a moment to follow the change in topic, but you’re still just as warm and comfortable as you were when he led you into the art room; still sitting on the cushion with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, still waiting for any of his gentle instructions and still finding peace in letting him move and command you how he likes. The relationship is new, the intricate dynamic moreso, but its one that both of you take your own pleasure and enjoyment from.

Markus gently pats his hand on your head to get your attention.

“You need to answer me, baby,” his voice takes on a firm, but not angry tone. “Are you still comfortable sitting like that?”

You smile and nuzzle against his leg.

“Yes sir,” you say. “I’m still comfortable.”


End file.
